Muggles aren't Boring
by whitetiger91
Summary: Stupid Ron, calling Hermione and Muggles boring. She was exciting! Wild, free and- and- Stupid git. Waking up in a strange place from a night out on the town with the most unlikely person, Hermione wonders how much she will regret trying to prove that she is certainly not boring. Written for the Awkward Moments Competition.


**Muggles aren't Boring**

Hermione blinked groggily as the sunlight streaming in through the large, glass window danced across her eyes. The sound of water gushing nearby only served to make her head pound more, and as she tried to untangle herself from the crisp, silky sheets around her, the world began to spin.

Where was she?

Slowly, carefully, Hermione tried to blink away the fog in her mind. She could see that she was in a room – a large, white room. Apart from the large four poster bed she was lying upon, there were several pieces of oak and glass furniture, including a tall wardrobe with intricately carved golden handles and a low coffee table sporting a stack of trendy magazines and glass vase – designer pieces, if she was not mistaken. She could hear the faint honking of cars outside, and as her vision became clearer, she realised that she must be in a hotel.

Oh.

Twisting her aching body, Hermione placed her bare feet upon the floor, marvelling as they sunk into the soft, white carpet. She had to test her weight first on each leg before she managed to heave herself up, careful to bring the sheets with her. A door to her right was opened to reveal a mirror and sink and behind it, she could hear the sound of a shower running.

Peering into the mirror's smooth surface, she wasn't surprised to see that she wasn't in the bed shape. Thought bright, her eyes were marred by deep bags, signalling the limited sleep she had received. Her usually bushy brown hair was now sticking up in odd twists and tangles, and her bottom lip was swollen and bruised. Every muscle of her body was begging her to return to the comfort of the bed. Yet despite all of this, she smiled.

She had never experienced a night quite like the one she had, never felt so exhilarated. It made her feel renewed; fresh, happy, and certainly not boring. Almost like she was a butterfly released from her former caterpillar self.

Taking a closer look into the mirror, she tried to detect any signs of this renewal upon her body. Part of her expected her skin to be glowing or her eyes to sparkle, yet everything looked exactly as she had left it. Everything except…

Gasping, Hermione looked closer into the mirror. As quickly as her smile came, it disappeared. No. It couldn't be, it just couldn't be! Touching her skin lightly, she moved her body in different angles. How had she been marked in such a way, that she hadn't even realised until now?

Frantically, Hermione turned on the tap and splashed water against her skin. She wasted no time in scrubbing it roughly with a nearby cloth, desperately trying to remove it.

She knew it was no use; that mark would be upon her skin for a long time. Staring at her reflection, she cursed herself for her stupidity as the full set of memories of the night before came flooding back to her.

* * *

"Another drink love?"

"Please."

Hermione had been waving her empty glass at the bartender, yet as she spotted the man's filthy wiping cloth, shook her head. No, that was enough. Besides, she had to work on keeping down the burning liquid already in her throat.

As a rather loud hiccough escaped her lips, she shook her head again. This was all Ronald's fault. The stupid git had the audacity to call her – or rather, all Muggles – boring, yet he wouldn't even have the guts to sit in a pub like this by himself.

A thin man with drooping eye lids grinned at her from nearby, showing off all nine of his yellowing teeth. He raised a brown bottle in her direction, toasting her as he took in her blossoming chest, before his head hit the wooden bar in slumber. Hermione rolled her eyes; great, even with the modern dress she had worn, she was still boring.

Hermione ignored the sound of the door opening behind her, shivering as the breeze swept into the crowded room. It did nothing to hide the stench of so many people; instead, it only dampened her mood as she tried – and failed – to wrap her coat tighter around her. Really, some people could be so inconsiderate sometimes.

If she could manage to turn around without toppling off her stool, Hermione vowed to give the intruder a piece of her mind. She could hear their footsteps approaching where she sat, and steadied herself ready to hit them if the need arose.

"Granger?"

* * *

Hermione grabbed her clothes off the floor and began to dress. She had to leave this place, and quickly. Picking up one heel and fumbling with the strap, she cursed her still tired brain.

The shower was still running and if she had the time to listen, she probably would have heard its occupant singing. She couldn't help but smirk at the thought that Ron had been right; the git a few metres from her definitely did love himself. Just wait until he started cleaning his lower back.

"Please? Come on, Gra- Hermione, just let me do something, anything. Please, no one will even talk to me anymore. I'll even do something Muggle if I have to," Draco shivered at this last part, but refused to let go of her hand as he begged for forgiveness.

Hermione sighed impatiently, trying to draw her eyes away from Draco's searching grey eyes. She had not expected him to turn up in the Muggle pub, let alone the very same pub she was in. More surprisingly, however, she had never thought in a million years that Draco would be apologising to her.

It had to be some sort of trick. Where were his friends? Were they watching from one of the tables, waiting to pounce with taunts of being a Mudblood?

Even so – her previous drinks not helping her judgement in the least – Hermione couldn't help but feel sorry for the ferret. She could see the earnest beneath his eyes and hoped she wouldn't regret her next words.

"Fine Malfoy, I'll forgive you," Draco's face lit up hopefully, "but only on one condition. I need a distraction and you will provide it. No, get that look off your face, I don't mean _that_. You and I will be doing some Muggle activities."

Draco swayed on the spot, finally letting go of Hermione's hand. With a slight shrug and his familiar smirk appearing, he agreed. "Alright. Show me what fun activities you Mud- Muggles do for fun."

* * *

Hermione wavered at the door feeling almost guilty for leaving. After all, the small bruise on her neck was only a small memento compared to what she had left Malfoy with. She could cover hers with a scarf and in a few weeks, it would be gone. He wasn't so lucky. Did he really deserve to be left alone to deal with the consequences of last night's adventures?

A loud, almost high-pitched, scream sounded above the gushing water, interrupting Hermione's thoughts and making her decision much easier. No, it was definitely best to leave now.

Without a second glance back, she ran out the door and entered the elevator as it clattered open in front of her.

"Muggles are so boring," Draco slurred, slumping against Hermione's shoulder. "Take me home and we can do something fun."

Hermione rolled her eyes, throwing an apologetic look at the heavily tattooed man before her. She had to admit that Draco wasn't such a bad person after all; though tipsy, he had made managed to make her laugh tonight. More so, she had never realised before how handsome he truly was, and the prospect of following home was beginning to excite her.

Nevertheless, a larger part of her needed to sort out his whining attitude before anything else could happen. The two of them had walked up and down the main streets, trying to decide what truly Muggle thing they could do. They had walked past carnivals with painted signs advertising 'free rides all night long' (to which Draco had made a rather untasteful comment) and open-clubs sponsoring karaoke competitions (to which Hermione had turned her nose up, not wanting to hear any more renditions of Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On,'. Especially as Ronald, it now seemed, would never 'be safe in her heart' ever again). Yet the whole time they had explored Draco whined about missing late night Quidditch matches and Muggles lacking imagination.

She would show Draco – and Ronald – that Muggles were not boring once and for all.

It was thus why she now accepted the tattooed man's folder and began flipping through designs as he loaded up his needle machine. She had to make sure it was perfect, and as she turned to one particular page she thought she'd found it.

Motioning for the man to come over, she pointed to a very sweet image of a white ferret wrapped around a wildflower. Even its mellifluous title, 'Pansy,' sounded pleasing to her right now. The man simply raised his eyebrows, but as Hermione fetched some bills from her purse, shrugged.

"Where do you want it?"

Hermione grinned, looking at Draco and seeing some of his pale skin exposed along his lower back. "There," she commanded, hoping that Draco would have the fortitude to bear with the oncoming pain.

* * *

 ** _A/N: I don't own anything from the world of Harry Potter, nor will I make a profit from this story._**

 ** _As you may have guessed, I haven't yet had this piece beta'd... like my other recent stories, this will be fixed ASAP before I submit to the competition it was written for._**

 ** _Speaking of, this was written for the Awkward Moments Competition hosted by Nightmare Prince on the HPFC Forum. The prompts for this story were oddly specific, so I'll write them below for marking purposes._**

 ** _Picking water and number 5..._**

 ** _Pairing: Hermione/ Draco (yipee... not. Sorry Dramione fans)._**

 ** _Scenario: The awkward moment when you get drunk and come home the next morning with a tramp stamp on your back, without even realising you had gotten a tattoo._**

 ** _Optional prompts: (word) butterfly, (word) mellifluous, (word) fortitude, (song) Celine Dion's 'My Heart Will Go On', (phrase ('Free rides all night long')._**

 ** _If I had a higher word limit, I would have loved to have gone more into the use of these optional prompts, expecially Celine Dion's song as it is one of my favourites :) Nevertheless, I always struggle with word counts as is so hopefully my prompt use doesn't interfere with the flow._**

 ** _Just in case: Draco is the one with the tramp stamp and not Hermione, who simply has a large hickey on her neck. I know, I know, why would she bed him after getting revenge like that? Well, apart from my uh lame attempts to cover that in the story, basically, she was slightly drunk (not as much as Draco who was going with anything by then) and you don't make the best decisions drunk. Besides, she wouldn't help but feel responsible for ensuring he got home safely, especially after getting him a tattoo and well... that bed is rather comfy..._**

 ** _I hope you all enjoyed my take on this and thank you for taking the time to read it! -Tigress x_**


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